I couldn’t make myself get out of the car. I just sat there as I moved closer to a full-blown panic attack. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, and the flutter in my stomach felt more like a bird than a butterfly. My door opened suddenly from the outside. Tyler reached in and disengaged my seatbelt. I gasped and strained against him when he took hold of my arm and pulled me from the car.
“Come on, settle down. I need you to withdraw some cash. Grab your bag,” he ordered then reached past me and snatched my purse as I remained frozen. “Let’s go, Hannah. Please don’t make a scene. We don’t need the attention.”
He shoved my purse into my hands and guided me up to the ATM. I glanced up at him as I fumbled for my wallet, dropping it and my bank card to the ground. He reached down and retrieved everything then maneuvered me in front of the machine. He stood beside me with his hand at my elbow as I worked the keypad. My hands shook with anxiety, and I made several mistakes. Each time, I had to start over. And each time, Tyler sighed in impatience. I gave him the cash and waited for his orders. He directed me back to the car, opened the door, and nudged me back inside with an exasperated huff.
We drove down the street to the first gas station we saw. Tyler walked around to my side of the car, kneeling next to me in the open door. By his tone, I could tell he was more than a little annoyed at me.
“You need to relax,” he said.
Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
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